Fastest man in the west
by Undaed15
Summary: After a encounter with a strange artifact, Barry is sent back in time to the days of the dying west, with only the memory of his name and city burning in his mind, he lacked purpose. Then, he met a man named John Marston.


**First things first, this is a project with Zivon96, so if you haven't…check out his crossover with Arrow and Assassin Creed. There will be a lot of cross over late so it's in the best interest to keep an eye on both. Second, if you have read Zivons story, I apologize that it took a while to get this up. Family matters and power failure made this hard to get done. Also, if you've read (or want to read) The Rage on my profile, it is also related to this story. So, expect characters from that to appear eventually...**

 **Without further ado, let's begin…**

Night had settled on the dusty old town, the smell of boozed up patrons mixed with the sound of men calling on a lady friend for a night of comfort. This was a town of hard working men, blood and sweat had built this town, but at the saloon…the man nursing his drink didn't seem to care. He was Caucasian, his brown eyes scanned the top of the bar he sat at. They looked…confused, looking everywhere, like he expected something to happen at any moment.

He body was covered dark brown cattle mans suit, his jeans were torn, but the thing that stuck out the most was his poncho and his hat: The poncho was bright red, lightning stitched into the collar; the hat had a bandana wrapped around it that had the same red.

The patrons all avoided him, they had seen men like that before, and they knew that if trouble came a-knocking, it would be best not be close to the man. The night was interrupted as the door to the saloon was kicked open, all eyes snapped to the door. The men walking in belonged to the local gang, all wore normal clothes for these parts. The gang's symbol, a blue sash across their chest, displayed proudly as they walked to the bar. The patrons all stiffened as the gang seemingly walked towards the man, only to relax as they sat away from him.

The patrons almost sighed with relief, for a while there it looked like there might be trouble. The gang ignored the man next to them; the man gave them a sideways glance. Something in the back of his mind seemed to feel…something about this. He felt the urge to pick a fight, to dispel these…evil men from this nice little town. He pushed these feelings down with a shot of whiskey; the man knew that his assistance might not be welcomed. He had learned that in the other towns he had been in, besides…he didn't know these people.

The man calmly stood to his feet, not attracting any attention, to start walking towards the exit. Hopefully to find an inn where he wouldn't be accosted, but something stopped him at the door of the saloon.

"Come on; show us a little something, _senorita._ " One of the gangs members said, his face grinning. Most people had picked up on a few choice Spanish words in this area, and had adapted it into their vocabulary. The man had his hands on one of the serving girls, one who didn't look like a whore.

"Get of me!" The girl yelled shoving the man, who only started laughing.

"Oh, we got ourselves a fighter here!" The man said, grabbing the girl harder by the shoulders. The girl screamed in pain, "I like when they fight, makes it funner!"

The rest of the gang hooted with laughter, the rest of the patrons looked at each other with fear. None could do anything without fear of death, well…almost none. The man at the door turned around as he walked towards the gang, he counted five in all.

"I don't think the girl appreciates that." The man said as he got closer, the gang all turned to stare at the man. In all their time, no one had tried to stop them from their fun.

"Maybe you don't know who we are," The man who had the girl said with a grin, "We're the _sangre coyotes._ "

"Is that supposed to scare me?' The man said, bringing a cheeky grin to his face, "Sorry _amigo,_ I'm the fastest gun around here."

The men all laughed at that claim.

"Are you loco? You haven't been around long enough to see a real woman, much less shoot a gun like one of those gunslingers." The man to the left of the womanizer laughed. The lone man chuckled, pulling back his poncho to reveal his twin cattleman revolvers.

"I'm no gunslinger…but I'm still the fastest around." The man said, grabbing leather so fast that four of the men felt their gun belts fall off their hips. The man with the woman was too shocked to react, the girl slipping off his lap and running behind the counter. The mans face grew red with rage, and he too slapped leather. Only for another shot to ring out, his gun flew out of his hand. The strangers gun barrels smoked as he smiled at the men, who ran out. Most happy to escape with their lives, though the red faced one screamed as they ran out.

"I'm coming for you!" he yelled, following his posse out. The stranger walked back to the bar and slapped down a few dollar bills.

" _Senor…_ you must run…the gang is far too much for a single man." The Mexican bartend whispered as he grabbed the money.

"Yeah…" The stranger muttered, he did intend to leave town, but not because of his opponents, but he knew that if he caused too much trouble, then he was going to get way to much attention.

"Sir?" Came a small voice from his right, the man in red turned to see the serving girl he had rescued, "Thanks."

"No problem, but my name ain't sir," The stranger said as he started walking out of the saloon, "It's Barry."

 **A few days later…**

John Marston groaned as he took his seat at the saloon in Armadillo, he had just gotten into town after dealing with that drunken fool Irish. The man said he had one last thing for Marston to do, but the former criminal needed to take a break from the shit that he had seen in the past few days.

John nursed his whiskey in silence, most of the towns people kept a wide birth, especially after John killed about three men who accused him of cheating at cards. On top of that, word had spread that he had helped kill the bandits that were in the pass, so everyone knew not to mess with this guy. John had just downed his drink when a man burst into the saloon, John turned to see a second man walk into the bar, this one wearing a red poncho.

"I'm sorry!" the man on the floor pleaded to the man in the poncho.

"That's not what you were saying a few minutes ago," Barry said with a small grin, "If I remember, you said 'give me your money or your dead."

The man on the floor started to blubber some more, but the man in red punched him and sent him into next week. The crowd just shrugged and turned to their previous task, when murder and assault were the norm, this was normal. Barry moved to the bar as the task resumed, sitting right next to John Marston.

"Give me a shot." Barry said, putting down a few dollars, John noticed the speed of his neighbor's hands.

"So, you driften, or are you just here to start trouble?" John said, turning to the new man.

"Just drifting, unless you intend to start trouble." Barry said, turning to regard the man.

"I don't intend too, but if you keep up the vigilante act, troubles gonna follow you." John said, turning to fully regard the stranger.

"Hey, the man was trying to take my money." Barry threw back.

"Yeah, but you did drag him in here, made a show, either you're trying to show off, or you're a fool." John said, turning back to get another drink.

"Doesn't matter; say…you ever heard of Starling City?" Barry asked suddenly, catching John off guard.

"Uh…no, can't say that I have." John replied, Barry almost sighed, right before he felt a hand grab his shoulder. He turned to see a Mexican man right in his face.

"Hello _amigo,_ think we forgot about you?" The man yelled right before punching Barry in the face. Barry didn't have time to react as he was grabbed again and thrown out of the saloon, as he fell; he tried to reach for his gun but was kicked again. Turns out, the rest of the five were waiting for him outside, as he was knocked to the ground as he tried to rise. After a good round of kicking, they stood him to his feet.

"This time, you won't be walking away, Barry!" The ringleader yelled as he readied a punch and let it fly, now…if Barry was a normal human, this punch probably would have knocked him the hell out. Fortunately, Barry was not a normal human, to him…that punch might as well have been molasses. He dodged it with ease, the fist slamming into the man behind to his left. The punch loosened the grip just enough to allow Barry to free his arm, and punch the man to his right.

The man let go of his arm and Barry went to work, he slammed his elbow into the man to his left, before performing a kick to the leader. The two men next to him got their heads slammed together in a rather comedic way, knocking them out cold. The fifth man tried to pull his gun, only for Barry to grab his hand and knock him out with a head butt. The man in red turned to see the leader trying to escape, Barry jogged (to him at least) and grabbed the man by the collar.

He punched the man once, and almost punched him again when a hand caught his.

"That's enough," Johns voice rang out, "He's done."

Barry paused enough to look at the man in his hand, yeah…he had a swelled up eye and was fast asleep. The man in red forgot, in his moment of haste, that he did hit quite hard with his enhanced speed. Barry ripped his hands out of Johns grasp, before walking away. John looked around at the mess, five men down and none of them dead.

"You gonna clean this up?" John yelled at the lone man in red, who promptly ignored him, "Didn't your mother ever teach you manners?"

That stopped Barry in his tracks, he didn't remember why, but anyone insulting his mother made him…aggravated. He turned around to look John full on in the eyes.

"Kid, you keep this up…you're gonna cause far more trouble than you want, trust me." John said in a warning tone, his knowledge of this situation showing. Barry almost muttered a sarcastic comeback, but suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his head. He looked at the man with rage, he saw this man in front of him in a new light, and he saw a monster. John noticed that the kid's eyes had started glowing yellow…that couldn't be good. He also saw that the kid took up a stance, the very same stance someone took when he was about to try to pull a gun.

"Kid, you don't want to do this." John said, taking his own stance.

"Too bad for you…I'm the fastest man in the west." Barry said with some confidence.

"If I got a gold coin for every time I've heard that one…" John muttered softly, the stage was set…it was time to find out who was the best man around. Barry though that he would win no problem, but right before he drew, Johns eyes seemed to turn a light shade of brown. Barry paid no mind as he drew, but then a shot rang out. He looked down at his hand…that couldn't be. He had been outdrawn…

"Come on kid, let's talk." John said, gesturing towards the saloon…


End file.
